Rookies of SHIELD
by brinkmanship
Summary: In a parallel universe, the younger members of SHIELD are children in an elementary school. The older members - as well as a few others - make up the faculty.
1. tH3 hACK3r

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Marvel in anyway, nor do I own any of its intellectual properties.

…I just borrowed one of their _comics_ and now I'm drawing on it. Hee hee __scribble scribble__

Note: This was supposed to be script format but this site literally did not make that possible soo... I made it vaguely similar to script format. I also had to use bold and italics to make this more readable (please forgive me script gods or whatever).

Rookies of S.H.I.E.L.D.

 _ **INT. SMALL DARK ROOM**_

Small fingers slide across a keyboard. The screen fills with on-going code.

 _ **INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY**_

Three boys around ten or eleven race each other. Their shoes skid across the wooden floor and their subdued laughter echoes throughout the hall.

The tallest one pushes the boy nearest him as they run. The shorter boy keeps running and, laughing, turns to protest.

 **BOY**

 _Hey-!_

The third boy shushes the other two. He puts a finger to his lips, slows down his pace and nods to a door with the room number 13. Their smiles drop and they proceed in silence.

 _ **INT. ROOM 13**_

An imposing female figure sits behind a desk. The only sound in the room comes from the sharp ticking of the clock and the soft clicking of the laptop's keyboard.

On the top of the screen are the words ' _Faculty Messenger_ '. Below that, the word ' _writing_ ' disappears and reappears. One final sharp click and a message appears on-screen.

 **STERN-LOOK (TEXT)**

 _We're getting off-topic_

The replies are quick.

 **ALWAYS-FED-UP (TEXT)**

 _Like anybody can concentrate_

 **NOW-NOW (TEXT)**

 _Now now, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this_

 **NOW-NOW (TEXT) (CONT'D)**

 _Huh_

 _I finally get my name_

 **SUNGLASSES (TEXT)**

 _I'll handle this_

 _IMT you'll have 2 share half the gym_

 _Cal..._

 **ALWAYS-FED-UP (TEXT)**

 _IMT?_

 **NOW-NOW (TEXT)**

 _I'll talk to Prof. Weaver_

 **HOGWARTS (TEXT)**

 _I'm here._

 _What's happening?_

 **ALWAYS-FED-UP (TEXT)**

 _We can't share the gym_

 **HOGWARTS (TEXT)**

 _With the names?_

 **NOW-NOW (TEXT)**

 _We've been hacked_

 **HOGWARTS (TEXT)**

 _What's IMT?_

 **SUNGLASSES (TEXT)**

 _In the meantime_

 _Isn't that a thing?_

 **STERN-LOOK (TEXT)**

 _There isn't room for 4 classes_

 **SUNGLASSES (TEXT)**

 _Use the field, if it's raining no gym class_

 _I have to go_

 _ _'Sunglasses has left the conversation'__ appears on the bottom of the chat.

May slams a fist on the desk.

 **MAY**

 _What are we supposed to do about training?_

She looks back at the screen and glares suspiciously. The automated message begins to slowly disappear letter by letter until only ' _Sunglasses_ ' is left.

 _ **INT. SMALL DARK ROOM**_

A small hand slides across the laptop keys. They belong to a girl no older than ten. On the screen the command prompt is open. Near the beginning of the code is ' _Admn\Skye_ '.

She's in a janitors closet sitting near the door with a laptop. She's careful not to make any noise.

 **DAISY**

 _Sunglasses..._

She types the next word in as she reads it slowly.

 **DAISY (CONT'D)**

 _Out._

There's a satisfied smile on her face. Suddenly the door swings open and Phil Coulson stands there, a pair of sunglasses dangling from the collar of his suit.

He raises both eyebrows in amusement. She smiles sheepishly.

 **DAISY (CONT'D)**

 _Hey A.C._


	2. The Principal

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Marvel in anyway, nor do I own any of its intellectual properties.

Note: This was supposed to be script format but this site literally did not make that possible soo... I made it vaguely similar to script format. I also had to use bold and italics to make this more readable

 _ROOKIES OF S.H.I.E.L.D._

 _ ** **INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - CLASSROOM 405****_

The door is slightly ajar. Excited young voices chatter inside.

 _ ** **INT. CLASSROOM 405****_

The sound is deafening. About twenty or so ten-year-olds are talking all at once. Some of them sit sideways, others have their chairs turned as they talk to their friends.

Footsteps approach and the students position themselves correctly on their seats. They lower their voices but the chatter continues in the form of excited, barely contained, whispers. The door opens and everyone stares in stunned silence. Every student is now sitting with a straight back and tightly shut lips. Principal Coulson looks around the room. His gaze lands on a student sitting in the first row. The boy's face is buried in his arms while he sleeps soundly. Another boy nudges him and he slowly lifts his head. He blinks rapidly, his eyes slowly grow larger as he notices the principal. The boy sits up and folds his hands in front of him. Coulson looks around the room again. He holds up a piece of paper so everyone can see. There's a list of names on it.

 ** **COULSON****

 _ _This is the attendance sheet. I'm going to randomly pick a name.__

He walks around as he looks at the list. His thumb lands on a name and he turns once more to the class.

 ** **COULSON**** ** **(CONT'D**** ** **)****

 _ _Leopold Fitz.__

There are a few muffled laughs. Everyone fidgets and sits up even straighter as the principle's gaze passes through them.

 ** **COULSON**** ** **(CONT'D)****

 _ _Leopold?__

The boy in the front row, the one who had been sleeping, slowly raises his hand. He gulps. His eyes are wide and fearful. Coulson nods at him. Fitz lowers his hand.

Coulson once again directs himself to the class.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _Your history teacher, Mr. Vaughn, isn't here today. That and other circumstances means that today, I'm you're history teacher.__

The children's wide eyes become distorted as their eyebrows furrow.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _I know this is unexpected.__

He looks around the room.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _...for all of us.__

He shrugs.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _But I'm sure we can find a way to make this work.__

Coulson looks at the students' desk. On top of almost every desk are several notebook pages stapled together.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _If Mr. Vaughn gave you some sort of assignment-__

A hand shoots up in the air. A little girl looks eagerly at Fitz.

 ** **GIRL****

 _ _Sir, Fitz didn't do his homework.__

She looks at Coulson matter-of-factly.

 ** **GIRL (CONT'D)****

 _ _He never does his homework.__

Coulson raises his eyebrows. Fitz throws her a glare.

 ** **COULSON****

 _ _I was going to say, you'll have to wait to give it to him when he gets back but...__

He gestures to her.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _It's good that you did your assignment.__

Someone in the room sneers.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

(to the class)

 _ _I don't know what Mr. Vaughn was teaching you when you last met...__

A few hands shoot up. He shrugs.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _And I don't care... So instead, Mr. Fitz, your name was picked out. I'll let you choose.__

Coulson walks to his desk and sits on the corner.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _Any moment in history.__

Coulson smiles sheepishly.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _Personally I like World War 2, but that's just me.__

Fitz stares blankly at him. Coulson nods patiently.

 ** **COULSON (CONT'D)****

 _ _Go ahead.__

 ** **FITZ****

 _ _Um...__

Fitz takes a few glances at the students to his side. Everyone looks at him expectantly. He looks back at the principal and opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

 ** **TALL BOY****

(cough)

 _ _World War 2.__

Coulson throws the boy an amused smile. Fitz takes a breath then glares at the boy through his peripheral vision. He scratches at the edge of his desk and looks at Coulson.

 ** **FITZ****

 _ _Industrial revolution.__

Many students groan. The tall boy glares at Fitz. The corner of Fitz' mouth twitches just a little.


End file.
